Abby in th Lab
by K-Shandra
Summary: A love scorned can have many outcomes


Title: Abby in the Lab  
Genre: NCIS – Romance/Science Fiction  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs  
Rating: T.  
Timeline: Season ten-ish. But is completely A/U… or is it?  
Spoilers: They are there… but not obvious enough to be spoilers.  
Summary: Love scorned can cause one to do strange things. Just humor the muse….  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys.  
A/N: This is for entertainment only. I was high as a kite on cold meds when Missy came up with this one, needless to say there were no brakes to keep it within the realms of reality.  
Written: May 2013  
Language: International English.  
Word Count: 1,987

*·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·. GABBY .·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·*

Abby sat at her desk in the darkened lab, with her head in her hands, as she for possibly the thousandth time that day tried to divert her thoughts from the area they seemed intent on wandering into. And why? Because they hurt. The confirmation, facing the truth always hurt; especially when it came to him.

Her happy demeanor had long since faded, along with the sunset that marked the day's end. Almost everyone had gone home, everyone but her, but then she did not have much to go home to. Yet it was not that which had brought on her mood… it had been another redhead – no replace that – another bloodthirsty tigress set on getting her claws into the one man she had no business getting involved with.

Abby released a dejected sigh. The worst was, she knew he would fall for her – as he has for all the others before her… that is not what irked her. The thing that unnerved her the most, was not that he fell for them, after all he was a man – with a man's needs, which she would gladly fulfill given the opportunity – it was the fear that this one could be _the one_, and by _the one_ she meant _the one_ that got to keep him. _The one_ he would once again drag up the aisle in hope of spending the rest of his days with, while she had to look on and forever live with the "what ifs."

She was tired of watching other woman swoon over him, and getting a piece of the man she wanted – but could never have. All she ever got was a hug, or a peck on the cheek for a job well done. And nice as those were, they always left her wanting… and then, at times, like today, he simply takes his results and leaves, no peck on the cheek or good girl, nothing. He just turns and leaves without a word. As it was, it was only later that she had heard Tony's comment about another mysterious redhead lurking in the shadows.

Abby dropped her head onto the desk and grunted in frustration, she should have known the quiet spell would not last for long, they never did. There was just something about Gibbs, something that made women flock to him, in droves, and she was no different, but she sometimes wished she could be – or at least indifferent enough not to suffer these covetous rages that took hold every time some other woman approached him.

It was not fair, it was just not fair. She loves him, really she does, and she knows he feels something too, maybe not what she wants, but it was better than nothing… Or was it? Lately it didn't seem so.

The stillness, the emptiness of her home, and the loneliness that filled her as she made her way there, made her less inclined to leave in the evenings. Even though she liked her home, it was after all the place where she most often slept, did her laundry and ate. It was the lab was where she lived. It was more her home than her apartment ever would be, and, sadly, more her home than his would ever be… Yet she could not relent the hope that one day, one day, he would see her, and realize she has been patiently waiting for him to come round.

Turning her head, she looked at Bert, who stood on his perch. She needed to do something, something to keep herself – and her mind – occupied, that way it could not wander to him and the what not's. Clubbing was out. She has long since past the age of going clubbing in the week.

Even McGee had moved on, and was seeing other women. That on its own was a relief, for it made things less awkward between them; especially when she said something that could be taken up wrongly, and she had a knack for doing that. But it also meant that she could no longer hide behind the façade of she would hurt him, or that he would become jealous and make things difficult within the team.

No, McGee moving on meant that she should also move on – well not so much move on as accept that it was time to haul herself off the comfortable shelf she's placed herself on, and actually get out there – not that she wanted to.

She had at some stage even considered getting herself a friends-with-benefits kind of relationship, but even then she sought out someone that resembled him to some degree, and in the end could not go through with it. Her mind and body just seemed unwilling to surrender to the touch of another man, not that he had ever touched her in such a way.

Her gaze shifted to the series of books on the shelf next to Bert… or she could hide behind her research, she could further it, possibly even finish it. It was not impossible. She had actually done a lot of the ground work while she'd been researching the DNA sequencing at that one hospital a few years back. It was way better, and safer, than putting herself out there – only to meet another crazy sociopath. And with Gibbs preoccupied, there was no way of telling how that would end up.

She got up from her chair and reached for the series of notebooks. They predominantly pertained to genetic sequencing, genetic mutation, and oddly scribbled notes and ideas. Most of them bordered on pseudoscience, but then pushing the limits of science was fun; granted, not everyone's cup of tea, but it would keep her mind occupied.

She opened the one and glanced through the notes, almost instantaneously dismissing some of them. She then reached for a pencil to scribble a bunch of new notes, as she again sat down at her desk. If it worked, she could sell the patents, and retire – in all likelihood, alone. She considered the possibility that the state would lay claim to her work, knowing that she would not be able to do it during work hours – not that the lab was ever quiet enough for something like that. It meant that she would have to work on it at night and early in the morning, possibly do most of it at home, and then only run a few tests at the lab, until she was ready to shift onto the development stage. Then would come the trials - that could be awkward - she might even apply for a research grant and a controlled research group (however the state would have a completely differing outlook to her research). Looking at the book she sighed, it would be a legacy if she managed to pull it off. But would it work?

She was halfway through the first notebook before she lifted her eyes to the monitor, It was approaching midnight, so she closed the notebook and made her way home. All the way there, and while she got ready for bed, variables kept running through her mind, and she quickly scribbled them down before slipping under the blankets in her coffin, with a renewed sense of enthusiasm filling her.

For two months she worked late nights and came in early in the morning, somewhat oblivious of Gibb's concerned glances, as well as the fact that he had the guards contact him whenever she left the lab late at night, or when she returned early in the mornings. She was consumed with her research, and although Gibbs had no idea as to what she was working on, he found her behavior not all that alarming, having been somewhat familiar with her sudden forays when compiling papers for scientific journals.

However by the second month his concerns again mounted, because although such behavior was normal for a few weeks, whenever it progressed beyond that, he feared for obsession, having firsthand seen what happens when she gets overly involved in her work, and how she can neglect her health – however she seemed to be eating properly this time.

By the start of the third month Abby was ready for her first attempt, having carefully and meticulously gathered everything she needed, she planned to do it on the weekend - if they had no case, also because she needed the mayor's help. Vance did not mind her using the lab for experiments, as NCIS was acknowledged all of the papers she had done since starting with them.

Friday afternoon, after the others had left, she started processing the samples, and patently set-up the other equipment on the worktop in her office, while awaiting the results. Once they were out, she took them home to recalculate her findings.

The following morning she returned to the lab, and stared the process of extracting and comparing the DNA sequences she wanted, then went about combining them, and testing to see what chemical sequences attracted and repelled them. Once she was done it was well into the afternoon. She took a break to pick up some Caff-Pow! and a bite to eat, before starting the distilling process.

It was not long after her return that Gibbs strode into the lab, "Hey Abbs," catching her so unawares that she swung around, nearly knocking the bunstant burner from the table.

"Gibbs!" she squeaked in shock, "Don't do that!"

Gibbs walked around the table, looking at the contraption of intricately organized glassware, and the amber liquid at the bottom of the one beaker.

"You distilling moonshine, Abbs?" he asked, taking hold of the beaker and lifting it to sniff the contents. "Smells like bourbon,"

"What are you doing here?" Abby asked as she moved to take the beaker from him, belatedly realizing he was going to drink it…

"Don't drink that!" she exclaimed, a moment too late, for he had already taken a sip.

"Jeez, Abbs, what'd you put in that?" he choked, placing the beaker back on the table, moments before Abby snatched it up to check the contents.

"You were not supposed to drink it!" she exclaimed while trying to determine how much of the contents he'd drunk.

"How was I supposed to know? You're forever cooking and brewing stuff that you want me to taste."

Abby placed the beaker under the outlet again and turned to him, wanting to reprimand him, she did not always ask him to taste everything… okay maybe she did, and instead asked, "You okay?" when she noticed his flushed color.

Gibbs looked at the stuff in the beaker, before asking, "The government got you working on some sort of warming concoction to use in the arctic?"

"No. why? what's wrong?" Abby said moving closer, "You look flushed."

"Feel hot, like I'm burning from the inside," Gibbs answered.

"Oh, no! This is not good," Abby said turning away from him to douse the burner.

"What's that stuff?" Gibbs asked

"It's a highly complex series of…. never mind, it's not supposed to be consumed," she replied reaching for her notebook.

"So why put it in bourbon?"

"Because it's easier to extract. Pure alcohol damages the protein strains during extraction." Abby said flipping open the notebook and starting on a new page, she scribbled a few notes before turning to look at him, her eyes distending as she took in his advanced level of flushness. "Come we'd better get you home," Abby said closing her notebook and moving to take hold of his arm, there's no telling what this could do if consumed, this is the first batch, so I haven't run any trials yet. I'll have to call Ducky so that he can be on hand," Abby said leading him from the lad, then handed him her one note book and extracting her phone from her lab coat, adding "Oh I'd better shed this," before shrugging out of her lab coat.

*·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·. **GABBY** .·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·*


End file.
